


A place for the sun to rest

by Gheloured



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Elise is a badass, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Memory Loss, More tags to be added, No Romance, Professor Simon AU, This also deals directly with the great mushroom war and all of its implications, What else is new, as ive decided to call it, marceline is the cutest, more angstily one could say, so please be cautious if youre in a bad headspace, the crown works differently, uncle simon 🥺🥺🥺
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29302896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gheloured/pseuds/Gheloured
Summary: Simon Petrikov puts on the crown and loses himself. The next time he does, it is to try and save others. And then as time goes on, Simon learns to save himself.(An AU where the crown can take over more easily as Simon experiences more negative emotions. This changes some things.)
Relationships: Finn the Human & Ice King | Simon Petrikov, Ice King | Simon Petrikov & Marceline, Ice king & the general cast
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. Tempest, storm, maelstrom

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This was just a thing I decided to do to get back into the swing of writing, and a wonderful idea that will be... fun >:) to write.

There was a storm, terrible and raging and  _ cold. _ It swirled in torrential winds and sharp slivers of ice that were too needle-thin to be called hail. Great waves of snow lay heavy on the wind, gushing and obscuring any light that tried to get past. Any snowflake was dashed from its pattern the moment it formed, pelting the bare rock of the earth and battering anything in its path. If there was a soul out among that gale, they surely would have died in under a minute.

So then why, Simon thought, was he still alive? Surely he should have died by now, having been stuck in this hellish place for so long. He leaned against the protection of a rock, gaining some slim margin where he wasn’t slashed by the snow and ice. Even so, he curled his face into his knees and hid his hands under his arms; the wind was unpredictable, and he didn’t fancy his nose freezing off. He had tried what seemed like hundreds of ways to prevent himself from being frozen—well, frozen any further—but had settled on this as the best way to prevent damage. And yet, Simon still made the mistake of looking up once in a while.

He saw flashes of white and gray, flurries of almost solid ice whipping up in the haphazardly beautiful way only nature could create, and then nothing at all because he had hidden his face again. Simon shuddered. At least his body was still shivering. That meant his hypothermia wasn’t too bad. It was when he got warm that he would be worrying. And that brought Simon’s thoughts back around to his predicament: how long he had been like this. Stuck in a frozen, volatile wasteland, with no idea as to how he had gotten there. Any time he thought of anything other than biting cold, the storm seemed to worsen as if trying to drown out his own thoughts.

Simon frowned. He cast his mind back. Before the storm, there was Betty, and before Betty, there was his work and the things he had uncovered, and before that, he remembered latkes and warmth and an entire childhood. The storm spiraled faster, and more harshly. No. Move forward. What happened after Betty. 

The Great Mushroom War.

The storm  _ howled.  _ Simon shuddered again, but not because of the cold. Tensions had risen for years between the countries, and then there was the bomb, and he remembered calling any remaining friends and family and hugging Betty so tightly, and then… Cold. The storm retreated, like a cat congratulating itself on getting a treat from its owner. Simon did not particularly want to own a terrible snowstorm as a pet. The storm snapped faster for a moment as if offended. Simon huffed into his knees. Ridiculous.

Simon fell into a lull for a while after that. With the near-constant noise and the fact that he knew he wasn’t getting any more comfortable, it was disturbingly easy to drift into the murkiness of his own thoughts. His knees ached from sitting in the same position so long, but to stretch his legs would only make him lose warmth, so he dealt with it. Simon wondered if there was anyone left to help him get out of this terrible place. Simon resisted the urge to go look for something. The best case was that someone would find him where he was, and the worst was that he went out to look for someone and ended up dying in the middle of nowhere encased in ice. He knew which one he preferred.

But what would be so terrible as taking a risk? Simon blinked and saw Betty crying in the middle of the night, fearful as to what was happening in the world. He remembered doing the same, feeling so powerless and weak. The world leaders at the time had taken one too many risks and ended up detonating, well. Simon didn’t like to think about that. Alternatively, Simon had taken many a risk on expeditions and ended up discovering new wonders of the people before him. He recalled the giddy faces of his coworkers when he had found that cave of ancient drawings of magical artifacts, and knew his grin matched theirs. He had worked for hours, covered in dirt, but ecstatic all the same. Simon couldn’t help but smile at the memory, his stiff muscles stretching in the cold. He also remembered the cave-in that had happened when he was only an intern for a team out on a school trip, the dust and the darkness. He winced as the storm picked up again. It would probably be best to stay put.

However, he didn’t get out of that cave by sitting there in a panic. He had done what he had been taught, looking for any signs of an opening, and eventually, found another place where the cave had another entrance. Of course, he had two others with him back then, and they were more experienced than him, and it was only together they were able to leave… but the point still stood. Simon steeled himself. The storm grew frigid. And Simon looked up to see a cascade of white bearing down directly towards him. Ironically, Simon froze in his fear. Something colder than the storm around him took his heart in a vice grip, and he regretted ever having the thought of trying to leave. A feeling of wrongness pressed on his mind, that something wasn’t right, that he should do something.

Simon resigned himself to being a coward. Better a coward than dead.

Simon would have sat there for another eternity, but suddenly there was a voice. It wasn’t Simon’s or the storm’s. It was faint at first but grew louder and louder until Simon recognized it for what it was: someone was crying, and they sounded young. He looked up again, and there they were, a short figure standing and weeping into their hands. 

“Hey!” He yelled. “Get down! You’ll be hurt!” The child did nothing, and Simon realized they couldn’t hear him over the wind. He stood, pitching to the side as another gust buffeted against him.  _ I’m not leaving, _ he thought to the storm, _ just making sure that this kid is safe. _ “Hey!” He shouted more loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth and stumbling forward. Still, they didn’t move, and Simon ran as best he could to make sure they could hear him.

Reaching close enough to have a normal conversation, Simon knelt. “Hey. We have to get to shelter, or else we’ll both freeze.”

Then Simon was struck with a thought: maybe they were deaf? In that case, he would just put a gentle hand on their shoulder, just to get their attention. He reached out, his frigid fingers unable to feel the texture of the fabric, and yet he knew that she saw him when their eyes made contact.

The storm swirled faster for a moment longer and then slowed, and before he could see it stop, Simon awoke.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon emerges from the storm and then meets someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously here I've messed with the timeliness because... plot. I'm planning on having lots of angst and canon divergence here, so don't go away when I change things up!
> 
> If you're a sucker for hurt/comfort and angst, this fic is definitely for you. Especially because now the angst is two sided on the whole marceline and ice king part.

Simon was exhausted. Every movement of his body felt like a monumental effort, but there that little girl was. And she could see him. That felt important in some inexplicable way. 

“We have to get to shelter, or we’ll freeze,” he said again. Only, he felt no wind, and as he looked up, he could actually see things beyond vague objects. 

“Mister? Mister? Are you ok?” The little girl asked, and Simon realized he was kneeling. When did that happen? And the knees of his jeans weren’t soaked, though the concrete was cold, and he shuddered to think of what would happen when the storm began again.

The storm…?

The girl brushed his windswept hair out of his eyes, leaning closer to him. "Mama said that if your eyes were weird that means you have a percussion."

"I think she meant 'concussion'..." Simon trailed off, because the words he wanted seemed to be slipping away. "Wh--how did you get? Hah--hold on."

Everything was so, so, blurry now, and the little girl's eyes were widening in some strong emotion and  _ huh that wasn't right and-- _

Then the world took a large turn and Simon felt the smothering darkness of unconsciousness.

He was blissfully warm. Warmth was something he had thought about for a long time in the storm, and different types of warmth, and ways that they came about. There was the burning of coming inside after being out in the cold, that started in the fingers and the ears and the nose. There was the warmth from laughter and being with people you loved on a hot summer night out. There was the slow, honeylike warmth that came from snuggling under a blanket and letting hot tea fill you up from the inside out. 

Therefore, Simon basked. His mind moved at a syrupy pace, like it did when he was almost asleep but not quite yet, and Simon was content with that. It felt like the first time he had properly rested for months. 

Unfortunately, it didn't last, as his blissful warmth became warmer until he was entirely too hot. Simon opened his eyes and fought off whatever was covering him,  _ like a beast _ , some part of his mind said. Looking around him, he saw that he had been on a couch and that the thin blanket that had been covering him lay in a pile on the floor.

_ Strange. Strange. _ So many things seemed to be lately. The floor was concrete, and the walls were thick brick, and there were… quite a few skeletons tucked into the corners of the garage, weren't there? Simon put the heel of his hand to his head. What had happened? 

Let's see. He had been with Betty, and then there was the storm, and then nothing but the storm for a long while, and… Simon was getting very tired of not being able to understand what was going on, both inside his head and out.

Something tugged at the edges of his brain. Something was wrong. He had forgotten something. Simon wanted to laugh. He had forgotten a lot of things, it seemed. 

Simon had always been better at thinking in motion, and, cheesy as it was, found himself putting his hand on his chin as he began to pace.

He hadn't gotten four steps in one direction before his foot hit something that clattered away on the floor. Simon startled a little and looked to see what it was.

**The crown** seemed to look back at him as soon as he laid eyes on it.

**The crown** somehow ended up in his hands, and everything suddenly became worse. 

_ I am alone, _ Simon thought.  _ Utterly alone, in my forgetfulness and madness and the storm.  _ And it was true. Simon used to have a rather good memory, especially for long winded histories and how they interacted with the world around them. Now it seemed that ability was put of his grasp.  **The crown** shone idly in the sunlight that streamed through the high windows.  _ I am alone. I couldn't even save a little girl from freezing to death in the storm _ .

The little girl. Simon dropped the crown in shock. He had forgotten, and something so important as well! He stumbled over his own bare feet and rushed to the nearest exit, only to find the door opening before he got there. 

"Oh my god," the person at the door said. It was a woman, tall, with dark skin and even darker hair. "Oh my God, are you ok? Be careful!"

Suddenly there were hands on him, gentle hands. "Where am I?" He said, "Where's the little girl? Is she--is she safe?"

"You're in our safehouse. And she's fine." 

"Who are you?" He asked, trying to get a closer look at her face. She wasn't someone he knew, but her eyes were almost achingly gentle as she looked at him.

"That depends," she said jokingly, "who are you?"

"Simon. Simon Petrikov." 

"Simon, can I call you that?" At his nod she continued. "Do you know what happened to you?"

"No, is something wrong?" It certainly felt that way. His brain was still moving like cold molasses. Simon found himself being walked back to the couch, and sitting down next to the woman. "Did… did I do something?"

"How are you feeling?" She said instead of answering.

Simon stopped and his grip tightened where his hands rested by his knees. "Not particularly well, I don't think."

"Would resting some more help? Do you want any water?"

"No, no, I have to find that little girl, make sure she's safe."

"Well, alright, you don't have to, I guess."

Simon furrowed his brows. "What was your name again?"

"Elise. I don't think last names matter at this point."

Simon was silent for a moment. Her hand was on his shoulder, a steadily comforting weight. He was grateful for it, almost afraid he'd drift away without it. Now that he had been awake for a few minutes, the panic began to fade from his body, leaving him tired again. 

"It feels annoying of me to ask this again, but are you sure you're ok? You've gone all spacey on me again."

"Sorry I… sorry. It feels like my brain isn't right. I promise I'm not just a mysterious drifty stranger who's come to haunt your life."

"That's good." Elise smiled slightly at the teasing tone. "I was worried for a while there, considering you've been in-and-out of consciousness for about four days now."

His eyes widened. "Four days?"

She winced a little at his expression. "Yeah. I couldn't find out what was wrong with you, but it looks like you're fine now, if a bit cold."

"I seem to be having some difficulty remembering how exactly I got here."

"Well, do you remember Marceline? She's my daughter, the little girl you saw? You'll be happy to know that she's all safe and sound."

"That's good." Simon's brow furrowed. "Do you remember what I was trying to save her from?"

"I didn't see anything, but Marceline was the one who brought me to you when you collapsed. You're a lot lighter than you look."

Simon flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry to make you carry me."

"You're nothing compared to the stuff I haul around to fix up cars and motorcycles, so don't worry about it. Besides, it was a learning opportunity for Marceline. She's never seen a vitals check before. We haven't exactly had a lot of people to check it out on."

He fell quiet again, turning to look at his hands instead of Elise. "I don't remember anything after the mushroom bomb hit."

"I don't exactly know what happened to you, but you've probably been sick for a while. Having a fever can sometimes burn away your memories. You must have thought something dangerous was about to get Marceline when you collapsed. Plus, a fever makes sense if your temperature is all out of wack now, I guess."

"Yeah." Simon closed his eyes. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"I cleaned your glasses while you were out," she said, handing them back to him. When he reached to take them, their fingertips brushed for a moment, and her skin was burningly hot against his.

"Oh, thank you." 

"D'ya mind if I check your temperature again? I'm still a bit worried."

"Sure, I guess. I feel better though." She put a hand to his forehead and flinched back with a hiss.

"Are you alright?" Simon asked sharply.

Elise stared at her hand for a second before answering. "Yeah I… it's just strange."

"What's strange?"

"You're very cold," she said, but quickly smiled. "Are you sure you didn't teleport here from Antarctica?"

"Yeah, definitely not." But Simon smiled too, giggling behind his hand softly at this whole, ridiculous situation. He was in a random garage in the middle of nowhere with a valuable artifact and a random woman he knew nothing about. The more he thought about it, the more he laughed, and soon Elise was laughing too. 

But when Simon's laughter became free and unhidden, Elise could see that his teeth were razor sharp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm just going to make it clear right now that Simon and Elise (marceline's mom) have and will have a completely platonic relationship throughout the story. I'm headcanoning Elise in her late thirties, and Simon is canonically around 47, and in addition I think their walks of life are too different for them to have a romantic relationship. Other than that, I don't think they'd fit? Idk the vibes are off and I'm not looking to write a romance anyway. 
> 
> Next chapter I'm hoping for sweet baby marcy to show up (finally! Uncle simon here we come!) And more mysteries about the crown. With marceline comes many questions answered and many more added.


	3. Resolve...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise, Marcy, and the extremely tired man

Elise suppressed the itch in her throat with a swallow and chuckled until Simon's laughter calmed down. He seemed harmless, but then again, he had just woken up and was clearly very weak. Obviously, he had some sort of sickness or concussion that left him with memory loss, but his clothes were peculiarly untattered. Nowadays it was harder to come across good strong clothing that would last a while, and even then everything would be well used. 

Elise and Marcy carried everything they owned on their bodies and in packs they wore, It was safer that way if they had to suddenly flee, but Simon (if that wasn't a fake name) had only a  **crown** and some sort of fancy jacket-and-shirt ensemble that really didn't seem suited to post-apocalyptic survival.

Even besides that, she didn't know what he had done before the War and therefore had no idea how he had survived it. She was sure that Marcy had survived because of her ancestry, and she had survived because of the submarine she was working on deep below the surface, but so far Simon(?) hadn't shown any type of specialty or suspicion at all.

Suspicion towards her, she should say. Simon was still plenty suspicious himself. There was no way that temperature was natural, and with the unnatural snowstorms in their area lately? Something had to be going on. Elise put a hand to her cheek and her brows furrowed. She hated to sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist, but was it some type of government experiment? If they would make The Bomb, when what would stop them from making a more  _ human _ weapon?

"Hey," Simon interrupted her thoughts. "What'cha thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering what happened to you."

"Yeah, me too," Simon said, slumping back. Now that Elise paid more attention, she could see the slight points to his fingernails in addition to his teeth. And his eyes. Something was… off about them, something she couldn't place. Simon seemed very relaxed for waking up in a stranger's house after the initial panic had worn off.

"How much do you  _ know _ about The Bomb?"

"As much as anybody, I suppose, the tension between world powers, as always, but things seemed to escalate again and again until the war. And then there was the main attack. I had tried calling my Fiancée, Betty, but the line was dead, and then I realized that everything was going to be gone forever, nobody left, and then--" Simon took a shuddering deep breath. "I don't remember."

"Are you sure you don't remember anything after?"

"Yes, quite sure." A thought seemed to occur to him then. "Is this leading up to something?"

Elise sighed. "I'm just trying to figure out how much I need to tell you."

"...I'm assuming nothing good happened after the bomb."

"Heh. No. How many zombie movies have you seen?"

"Really? I mean really?" Simon straightened up. "There are zombies?"

"From the radiation. Though they don't really look like corpses, anymore, and they don't bite. It's the stuff that comes out of them that you have to watch out for, like a disease spread by bodily fluid?" Elise explained, drawing a shape in the air with her hands of roughly what she knew the oozers looked like. "But it's not a disease, I don't think anyway. Being with just me and Marcy has given me a lot of time to think of theories, I guess."

"Goodness." 

"Yeah, it's not pretty out there."

Simon looked at her, and then at the floor, and then back at her again. Elise watched the way the light reflected off of his earrings.

"What about--" Simon swallowed, cleared his throat. "Was there anyone else that-- that survived?"

Elise was quiet for a while. "A few. Very few. Most of them unfriendly to a single black woman with a kid. Having Marceline makes everything more complicated."

"I'm sorry to hear that people are such jerks," Simon said, fists tightening in the first real sign of aggressiveness Elise had seen from him. "What type of lousy person would turn away a parent and their kid."

"Huh." 

"What?"

"I didn't expect to find such a righteous person out here, of all places."

"Oh, well, it's just-- I just couldn't imagine refusing to help. That's all." As he spoke, color rose to his already tawny cheeks. 

"That’s very nice of you, Simon," she said with a half-smile. 

In the next lull of their conversation, the door opened again to admit Marceline, who was holding a stained piece of cardboard with both hands. Simon flinched, startled at the intrusion, but Elise held out both of her arms for the inevitable hug-and-clamber that Marceline seemed to favor nowadays. 

"Mama, mama, look!" Marceline shouted in greeting, turning the cardboard to proudly show off her drawing. It was done in black charcoal Elise had collected for her due to most stores being infested, and was definitely supposed to be… Something.

"Aww, sweetie it looks great!" And it was adorable. Most children were when they were young, but especially Marceline. And no, Elise was not biased just because she had the sweetest daughter in all the world.

"Hey! That wizard guy we found's awake!"

"Ah. Yes, I am. And who might you be?"

"I'm Marceline, the cutie queen! Or at least that's what mama said. You were asleep forever, ever since mama carried you here. She's really strong--" Marceline ran out of breath and gasped "--what's your name?"

"I'm Simon. How do you do?" He had a small smile on his face as she began to ramble about her day. Elise watched their interaction carefully, though Simon was rapidly becoming more trustworthy. Marceline somehow always could sense if someone had bad intentions, and she had never been let down by it before. 

"By the way, Mr.Simon, what happened to your ice powers?"

"My-- my what?"

"When you were in that ice storm, you were shooting ice everywhere until you saw me. And then you grew less and less blue until you looked like you do now."

"Oh, I…" Simon trailed off, his brows furrowing and his hand coming up to his temple as he began to stare, unfocused, into nothing. 

"Mr.Simon?" Marceline blinked. "It's OK if you don't know, Mr.Simon, mama says you can always learn to find something out. You just need a teacher."

"...you're probably right." Simon visibly pulled himself back into the conversation, turning back to Marceline. "And besides, there are more important things to do and learn right now. If that's alright with your mom."

Marceline looked towards Elise with pleading eyes, much to her amusement. "Of course. But be careful, and stay close."

Marceline cheered and jumped off the couch, gently grabbing at Simon's cold hand while he stood, stumbled, and put a hand to his head again.

"...on second thought, how about we try again after Simon's had a bit more rest."

The first few days after waking up were difficult. Simon found it harder and harder to sleep, and his thoughts became more distracting whenever he found himself with an idle moment. Therefore, Simon worked: whether it be keeping Marceline entertained, or doing small things that needed to be done, Simon tried to keep as busy as possible. In addition to whatever small tasks he could scrounge up for himself, Elise had taken it upon herself to teach him about the post-bomb world.

Simon found himself watching Elise’d face more than the map as she explained which spots in the city were safe and which were infested. There were shadows under her eyes, and her cheekbones stood out just a bit too much to be healthy. Besides that, there was a certain weary way her jaw was set, and a hard look in her eyes that Simon had rarely seen before. 

Elise herself was an enigma to Simon, very caring and compassionate, but with a distrust in the curl of her fingers when she reached out to him. She loved humanity, and the way they created, and yet every person that she spoke of seemed to have earned her ire in some way. Although, Simon noticed, Elise had never spoken of her life before the Bomb, and all the people in her stories were those that happened to survive. 

What was it that turned people to cruelty when their lives were at stake? Was it some natural instinct to become vicious when able? But then, why would someone bother to remain kind when there was no society to be kind to.

And yet, without it, Simon might've died.

"Hey. You're spacing out again, Simon. That's dangerous to do nowadays." Elise spoke, interrupting his stream of thought. 

"Sorry. Where were we again?"

"In the north district of Melicombe, right around where 6th and Rentway meet, there's a pretty extensive nest in a sewer system."

"Ah, right. Right." 

"You're definitely getting tired of this but I'll tell you again: you can rest if you need to. Not everyone can just spring up and dance after being unconscious for four days. Some would call that a coma."

"I promise I'm fine," Simon said. He leaned forward and spoke to the floor. "I just keep getting lost in my thoughts."

"Did you ever take a medication for that?"

"Ah no, but usually it's not this bad. Something…" Simon grasped both of his elbows. "Something happened to me. And I'd really love to find out what it was."

"Yeah." Elise huffed. "Me too."

She read the map silently for a few seconds, long enough that Simon felt he needed to fill the silence.

"I'm really sorry about all this."

"Yeah, me too." Elise didn't look up.

"No, I mean it. You shouldn't have to protect some guy you found in the middle of an apocalypse. You should be free to care for your daughter and not someone who's useless out here."

"...you're not useless." Simon looked at her silently, his expression on the verge of incredulous. Elise set down the map and sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "You're one of the very very few people out here who actually knows something. For one, that's pretty refreshing, and two, our combined knowledge is worth a lot. You said you were an antiquarian? For magical stuff? And you're a professor, for crying out loud. It may not seem like it, but knowledge is power more than ever."

"I suppose so," Simon said, his emotion subsiding. He felt warmer, and it prickled on the edge of his forearms. "And I can also teach Marceline. Like you said, I was a professor and I have-- I had students. I can teach her."

"Really?"

Simon smiled. "Yeah."

"Thanks."

"Oh, oh, that reminds me uh--" Simon turned to her fully. "Can I stay? I promise I won't slow you both down. I may be old but I can pull my weight."

"Aren't you under 50? Nevermind." Elise sighed, but smiled fondly. "I'll tell you again and again won't I. You aren't useless because you're sick. And you aren't useless in general."

"But can I stay?"

"Yes, Mr. Professor Petrikov. You can stay."

"Gosh, miss engineer extraordinaire, thank you" Simon returned teasingly, but his meaning was genuine. "Now I think we should get back to the map."

"You're right. Now, at the old warehouse on 18th Street there's another nest…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've figured thst this story should be divided into parts thst cover the different eras of the formation of modern Ooo. Part 1 being the post-mushroom apocalypse, part two being the whole vampire and mutant thing, part 3 being [redacted] and part 4 being when we finally begin covering csnon content. I don't have specific chapter counts for these but I know some will be longer than others.
> 
> Prepare for worldbuilding


End file.
